Family
by hedanicree
Summary: From the television series 'Young Blades': Jacqueline struggles with the loss of her family and living as a musketeer.
1. Chapter 1

_Family __Disclaimer:__ I do not own Young Blades. This work is merely an expression of ideas by a fan. No infringement is intended. _ _Authors note: __This fan fiction was published in a book of fan writing for Karen Cliche in 2005. The following was editing and set for that publication. Family __By Hedanicree_

**Chapter One: When it Rains, it Pours**

Jacques Leponte stared out the small window in her room at the street below. The rain beat mercilessly down on the few people that were brave (or stupid) enough to venture out in the downpour. Thunder echoed somewhere in the distance, but its sound did not stir her from the two small figures that were among the few people in the street.

A little girl, not more than ten, stood pulling something away from a small boy, who looked older and was much larger than the girl. The boy was yelling, but through the sound of the rain, Jacques could not hear what he was saying. The boy finally let go of the other end of what Jacques realized was a bag and shoved the girl into the large puddle that had formed behind her. Jacques waited for her to start to cry, but the tears never came. Instead she clinched her fist, stood up and punched the boy, knocking him down. The boy's eyes went wide. He stared up at the girl, shocked that she had hit him. The little girl stood over him with the bag in one hand, and her right fist still clenched tightly.

Jacques turned away from the window and threw herself on the bed. The sight was too much for her. That little girl was who Jacques felt like most days. D'Artagnan constantly pushed her like that boy had done to the girl, and it was becoming mentally exhausting trying to prove herself on a daily basis. Jacques knew she had strength. The fire the little girl showed when she stood up and faced the boy was exactly the way she would stand her ground with Gerard when they played as children and he had pushed her a little too far.

But Gerard had been gone for six months. It was one thing to stand your ground with members of your family. It was completely different to have to continuously prove yourself to a man who did everything in his power to test her and remind her that she was of the weaker sex. It didn't matter how many times she beat him in practice, he still pestered, flirted and made remarks about her masculinity in front of Siroc and Ramon. She always made him pay for it.

Jacques' strength was waning. She had been slipping recently. D'Artagnan had been there to cover for her, but she still found herself resenting the only person who knew her secret because she still had no one to talk to, no family. And he was, after all, only a man. She could only expect so much from him. But, she knew it was only a matter of time before someone — Siroc, Ramon, Captain Duval — found out who she really was. Jacques grew tired of the entire façade.

She had requested a week off, but instead was being sent on an assignment with her three friends to Le Havre, escorting one of the young king's cousins home. A matter of utmost importance, Duval had said. Jacques hadn't argued. There wasn't much she could say. But, at least, Captain Duval had given her the rest of the day off.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. She took a depth breath before she stood up, adjusting her undershirt and tunic. There was a second knock.

"Jacques," d'Artagnan's voice called.

"Come in," she said. She didn't bother to hide the irritation. Besides, he was the last person she felt like dealing with.

He entered her room, shutting the door behind him. "We're going to the café for supper," he said.

She finished with her shirt and turned around to face him. "Well enjoy your supper," she snapped. She didn't feel like eating with him or anyone for that matter.

The smile that had graced his lips as he entered the room faded from his face. She was apparently in a foul mood. "You're not coming?"

Jacques said nothing. She just glared at the gray clad figure in front of her.

D'Artagnan crossed his arms, a defensive stance to prepare for her reaction to what he was about to say. "For the last week you've been nothing but irritable and moody."

Jacques rolled her eyes and turned away from him, reassuming her spot by the window.

D'Artagnan walked over and stood behind her, close enough that they were almost touching. He was tired of her attitude. All week she had been snapping at him, Ramon and Siroc. "Are your wrappings to tight or is it just a female thing?" He paused before leaning forward and whispering, "Jacqueline," in her ear.

She spun quickly on her heels, their faces less than an inch apart. She hated every time he said her name. He had no right to say her name. It was only an accident that he even knew what she was. Her hands were clenched like the little girl's had been and she wanted nothing more than to swing and knock him down, especially when his lips curved up into a smirk.

He tilted his head slightly to one side and held her gaze. He knew that look of fury but he didn't know why she had been giving it to him all week. He sighed. "Come to supper," he finally said. If this had been any other musketeer, d'Artagnan would have given up after she took his head off when he came in. But this was Jacqueline and there was something about her that affected him like no other woman ever had.

"Fine," she said, hitting him hard with her shoulder as she moved past him. D'Artagnan shook his head as he followed her out. Always so stubborn, he thought.

When the four arrived at the café, it was hard to walk through the place without brushing against another person. The four pushed and shoved their way to a table in the far corner.

"We're never going to get any service over here," Siroc pointed out.

"Have faith, mi compadre. I'm sure d'Artagnan and I can charm one of the lovely ladies into bringing us something," Ramon said as he stood up and headed for a blonde who looked a little overwhelmed from all the male attention she was receiving. D'Artagnan followed closed behind.

Jacques shook her head. Her friends' arrogance and perpetual womanizing never ceased to annoy her. Ramon and d'Artagnan were both trying to charm the young woman, who giggled nervously. Ramon got down on one knee, and although Jacques could not hear her friend's words, she was certain he was rhapsodizing while d'Artagnan moved on to another maiden.

"You really should lighten up, Jacques." Siroc had been watching her, noting Jacques' tense posture and narrowed eyes. "You could join them if you like."

"If I wanted a lady, Siroc, I would find one," she snapped at him. Out of the three of her friends, Siroc was the only one that didn't irritate her beyond her wits. She found his quiet nature and sharp mind to be refreshing. Her voice softened from the harsh tone she had just used with him as she spoke again. "Those two won't be happy until they've kissed every woman in Paris."

Siroc laughed, not loudly like most men, but subtle and light, a sound that fit his nature. "Actually, I don't think they'll be happy until they've kissed every woman in France."

Jacques looked back at her friend and couldn't help but laugh. It was the first time she had found humor in anything in over a week. "Well, the way those two are working, it might be faster if I go get us something. Would you like something to drink, Siroc?"

"Just coffee. I have something I want to do tonight that I've been dying to try all day." The inventor's eyes sparked as he spoke. Jacques knew that look. She just hoped he didn't blow up anything.

Jacques returned a few minutes later with two plates, a coffee for Siroc and something stronger for her. Ramon and d'Artagnan were sitting across from Siroc when she returned.

"Jacques, friend, only two plates, there are four of us," Ramon leaned forward, reaching for one of the rolls on the plate she was handing to Siroc.

"I thought you and d'Artagnan were going to use your charm for supper, Ramon," Jacques shot back. She set her plate down and sat down next to Siroc, taking a drink, which made her throat burn.

D'Artagnan sat across from her, watching every movement. He couldn't resist teasing her, a pay back for her earlier moodiness. As Jacqueline set her cup down, shaking off the effects of the potent drink, d'Artagnan spoke. "You know, Jacques, you'd make a lovely barmaid." D'Artagnan started to laugh but before he could even finish laughing, he was flying backwards off the bench, hitting his head on the wall behind him. That was the last reaction he had expected. His jaw throbbed.

Jacques had hit him squarely. She stood on the other side of the table, her left fist clenched and her right hand on the hilt of her rapier. Her eyes were narrow and the look of fury was back on her face.

Almost as soon as he hit the wall, d'Artagnan was up. "What is your problem, Leponte?!" he shouted as his hand went for his rapier. Ramon stepped in front of him as he started to draw, pushing him back slightly. Siroc was doing the same to Jacques.

"You are, you arrogant ass!" she shouted back. He had broken her last straw.

It was all Siroc and Ramon could do to get the pair out of the café and back to the garrison without trouble. D'Artagnan continued to bate her as they walked back to the garrison, and it took all of Siroc's strength to keep her from pummeling d'Artagnan.

Siroc shoved Jacques into his laboratory and shut the door when the four where finally in the garrison hall. He turned to speak to his friends as he held the door shut. He could feel Jacques trying to open the door. "Good night," he started, stopping when the pulling was replaced by a loud breaking sound. Siroc noticeably cringed.

Ramon, who still had a hold of d'Artagnan's arm, pulled his friend down the hall toward his room. "Come, d'Artagnan, we have a long day tomorrow. Sleep will do us all good." Ramon looked over his shoulder at Siroc one last time and rolled his eyes. They had both had enough of Jacques and d'Artagnan's constant bickering.

Siroc entered his laboratory ready to put Jacques in his place right then. Who did he think he was hitting d'Artagnan like that? The two had always been rivals with a sword and occasionally hit each other during matches, ignoring the rules of engagement. But neither one had ever hauled off the way Jacques had. Before Siroc could even begin the lecture he had prepared in his head, he realized that the laboratory was still dark. He walked over to where the switch was hidden for the lighting system he had made and saw his friend picking up the broken glass that was all over the floor. Jacques seemed calmer than when Siroc had first shoved her in the room

"I'm sorry, Siroc. I hope it wasn't important," Jacques said, looking up from where she was squatting.

Siroc knelt beside her and helped her pick up the pieces. "Not terribly important. Just part of the experiment I wanted to try this evening." He stood up and put the handful of glass he had collected on the table top, and then knelt back down. His face revealed his disappointment. "Is there anything bothering you, Jacques? You seem 'tense' lately," he asked, as he picked up another piece and jerked his head to force the untamed blonde locks out of his eyes.

"It's nothing, Siroc," she said, lifting her eyes to meet his gaze before she stood and put the handful of glass she held in the pile Siroc had started. "I've been," she stopped, taking a deep breath. "I've been considering leaving the musketeers."

Siroc's expression changed from concern to total shock. "You can't be serious?" he said before even realized he was speaking.

"I'm very serious, Siroc."

The two musketeers just stared at each other for what seemed like eternity. There was something clearly troubling his newest friend, but he couldn't figure out what. Surely Jacques wouldn't let d'Artagnan's constant harassment and arrogance get to him. Jacques had handled himself brilliantly from the first day with their arrogant friend. It hadn't stopped Jacques then and Siroc wasn't sure why he would let it stop him now.

It was Jacques who looked away first. "Good night, Siroc. Good luck with your experiment." Jacques made it to the door before Siroc spoke again.

"It isn't because of d'Artagnan, is it?" Siroc asked, wanting to make sure his assumptions weren't correct.

Jacques stopped with her hand on the door. "No, Siroc. I 'am' tired of his arrogance. I," she paused. "I just don't think I belong here." She exited quickly not wanting to say more.

Siroc sat down on the only chair he kept in the lab. He stared at the door, puzzled. Why would he want to leave? Why would he consider it not important? What did he mean he didn't belong here? Jacques had saved his life, all their lives, more than he could count. How could he think he didn't belong? Siroc sat in the chair and for the first time in his life, he felt perplexed.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Young Blades

**Chapter Two: The Road to Le Havre**

Le Havre, a costal city about 100 miles from Paris, rested mere miles from the mouth of the Seine River. The road to the small town followed the rivers every twist and turn. But, the river was not what consumed Jacques' thoughts as the early morning sun rose slowly overhead.

The road didn't just lead to the coast, but past an area she knew quit well. Her home had been not far from the river, just off the road. It had been five months since she had stood over her father's grave, wishing he could see her. But that was back when she thought she could handle anything and had almost cost d'Artagnan his life and freedom because of her infatuation with Charles Stuart. She had hidden herself since then, never shirking her duty, but it was hard to serve her king when she now questioned why she was even doing it in the first place.

Her family was gone. Her brother lived, but she'd never see his face again, never hug him or hear his comforting voice. She longed for her family, and the feeling was poisoning her. Why was she fighting when all that she had started fighting for was gone?

It didn't seem to make a difference whether they thwarted another one of Cardinal Mazarin's plans. He still held Louis in his grasp, and Jacqueline Roget would never be anything more than an outlaw. What once had been her salvation and dream had become a curse for her life. She was trapped in that uniform.

She looked at the back of the man who rode in front of the carriage. She loved him. She was certain of it, but she had no one these days. He flirted with her, but that was all it was. She would never have the family she wanted, not with him, not in France, and d'Artagnan would never leave. After all, he was a d'Artagnan. His family was legendary, and she was a Roget, common but proud.

Jacques slowed her horse and slowly trailed behind. She was almost home. It was but a short distance, and she wanted nothing more than to be home at that moment. Jacques stopped her horse completely, watching her friends continue on without her.

Siroc, who had been riding at the rear with her, had not noticed her trail behind. His mind still focused on their conversation the night before. Jacques didn't belong? Out of anyone, Jacques Leponte belonged to the musketeers. Of this, Siroc was certain. He had been thinking on the matter the entire night and still had not found a solution. He wouldn't let Jacques leave, not without a fight. He would tell d'Artagnan and Ramon of his plans when they stopped in the evening. After all, they were all friends and they did have the right to know what Jacques was planning.

Siroc came out of his thoughts, completely resolved to do what he needed to do to show his friend that he should not leave. He turned to speak to Jacques, and then suddenly pulled back on the reins of his horse. Jacques was gone. "D'Artagnan! Ramon!" he yelled. There had to be another reason, a logical one, as to why his friend would just disappear in the middle of a mission. He wouldn't leave, not when he had a duty to perform.

Ramon, who had been driving the carriage, stopped the horses when he heard his name and reached for his rapier and stood up, scanning the road side.

D'Artagnan quickly spun his horse to face Siroc and pulled his rapier as well. "What is it," he demanded, his eyes searching for any sign of danger.

The inventor was a little startled by his friends' reactions. They had anticipated some form of trouble. Trouble always followed them, but he hadn't expected them to jump out of their seats. "Jacques is gone," he said quickly, bringing his horse up beside d'Artagnan's. Siroc grabbed d'Artagnan's arm. "He said he was going to leave," Siroc paused. "He said he was going to leave the musketeers."

D'Artagnan, uncertain that he had heard Siroc correctly, kicked his horse and rounded the back side of the carriage. She was gone. He cursed to himself.

"Is there a problem?" A lady's head stuck out of the carriage door. Her light brown hair was pulled back from her faced and curled. Her brown eyes fixed on d'Artagnan.

If he said the wrong thing, the Lady Isabel would report it to King Louis, which could end Jacques' career and her life if she was discovered. "Jacques is missing, milady."

Jacques could see her house. She stopped her horse and just stared at the small frame. It seemed like a lifetime ago she had run through the very field she was in now, chasing Gerard and battling like musketeers. Jacques swallowed hard, trying to remove the lump in her throat. She would not let herself cry. Soon, she would be on her way to find Gerard and she wouldn't even be able to look at her home from a distances. She had decided. She was leaving when the mission was complete. She just didn't know how to make her friends understand that she needed family more than this life.

Siroc's voice interrupted her thoughts. She could not hear his words, but she knew his voice. Something was wrong. Something had made him call out. She kicked her gray mare hard and turned back to where her friends would be. She pulled her blade as she turned through the grove of trees on to the road. Her horse snorted and fussed but she kept pushing, she had to help her friends. Her blood rushed with fear and anticipation.

Jacques slowed her horse when the carriage came into view and lowered her sword when she saw no immediate danger. A woman's laugh echoed. "Musketeer Leponte is right behind you," she said. The lady shook her head, amused at the situation, before ducking back inside the carriage and shutting the door.

Jacques stopped next to d'Artagnan. "What's wrong?" she asked breathlessly.

D'Artagnan grabbed her wrist. Jacques tried to pull away, but instead horse and rider were forced backward by d'Artagnan and his horse. He was furious with her. "Where were you?" he demanded through clenched teeth, breathing through his nose and barely controlling his rage.

Jacques could only stare into his dark eyes. She had to think quickly. She needed an excuse. "I was —" She stopped speaking and glared at d'Artagnan. He was hurting her wrist. She tried again to pull away, but instead was rewarded by him strengthening his grip.

"Where were you?" he demanded again.

"I thought I heard something. I was checking it out," she finally said as she managed to finally pull her arm away from him before looking away. She bit her lip, feeling a little guilty about lying to him.

"You're lying," he shot back. Jacques started to protest but d'Artagnan cut her off. "Is it true? What Siroc said?"

Jacques pulled her horse away to put some space between them and looked at Siroc. Siroc and Ramon were staring at their friends, each had their own opinion about the scene in front of them but neither voiced it. They had both felt relieved when they saw Jacques racing up, but it was quickly replaced by the same anger d'Artagnan felt. Jacques shouldn't have left his post. "It would help if I knew what Siroc said, d'Artagnan." Jacques didn't even try to disguise her feminine voice as she hissed her response.

"Are you planning on leaving the musketeers?" His words were calmer and even this time. He silently prayed for the answer to be no.

She looked back at d'Artagnan as he spoke, his eyes bore into hers. Jacques took a deep breath. "Yes."

She kicked her horse to take the lead position in front of the carriage.

"Why?" D'Artagnan yelled at her back. His hands trembled. He wanted to do something, to say something to make her change her mind. But he couldn't, not in front of their friends.

Jacques rubbed her wrist before turning around to face her friends. She was on the verge of tears. "Because I have no one here I care for. I plan on joining what's left of my family." She spun back around and kicked her horse. As soon as she had spoken, she regretted it. But there was no taking it back. She had said it more to hurt d'Artagnan, but there was still truth in her words. "Let's get going, Ramon. I'm sure the lady would like to arrive in Le Havre sooner rather than later."

Ramon picked up the leather reins, flicking them to usher the horses forward. Siroc, Ramon and D'Artagnan all looked in turn at each other. Had Jacques turned around, she would have seen the pain that her three friends felt.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Young Blades

**Chapter Three: Strong Women**

Jacques sat leaning forwarded with her elbows resting on her knees. She held a stick and drew small interlocking circles in the dirt. She had abandoned their mission just for a glimpse of her home, and her friends were angry. No one had spoken to her since except for Lady Isabel. She didn't really blame them. She occasionally noticed her friends watching her, just to turn away when she looked at them. It was aggravating. They didn't know how she felt. But it didn't matter. She would soon be gone.

She stood up and threw the stick in the fire. "I'll take the first watch," she said before stepping over the log she had been sitting on and walking toward the carriage. Her friends said nothing.

Now Lady Isabel was puzzling, Jacques thought as she sat down by the carriage, still watching her three friends by the fire. Most ladies Jacques had met would have insisted on continuing until they found a proper place for the night. But what intrigued Jacques was that this lady had insisted on camping. "It's a nice night. Let's stop here," she had said. D'Artagnan had protested that it wasn't suitable for a lady, but she only laughed and insisted that they camp. Isabel was definitely different than most, but so was Jacques.

Jacques looked up from where she was sitting and almost jumped out of her skin. Her hand went to her heart. "Milady, I didn't realize you were there."

"I am a quiet one," Isabel said, her expression revealed nothing of what she was thinking. She was sitting on the floor of the coach, with the door open. Her dress was pulled up slightly so that her boots showed. Her boots rested on the coach step. She was a beautiful woman and looked much like her aunt, the queen. "Are you and your friends still not speaking, Musketeer Leponte?" the lady asked.

"Everything is fine, milady. I assure you that my friends and I are on perfect terms," Jacques lied.

Isabel scrunched her face. "I overhead what happened this morning. I do not pretend to know your history, but I believe they were more upset that you might have been gone for good then you leaving your post."

Jacques looked away. The lady was staring hard at her. Her expression clearing telling Jacques she was no fool. "I did not mean to abandon my post, milady. I was just checking on something, as I told them." Jacques stood up and leaned her back against the carriage next to Lady Isabel. She would be in for it if she returned to Paris.

"I like to camp you know," Isabel said, realizing her companion was clearly uncomfortable with the subject of her friends. "When I was a child my father would take me on his travels. I spent many beautiful nights under stars such as these." Isabel pointed to the sky. Jacques followed her finger upward, staring at the brilliant lights that filled the sky. "However, my mother and my aunt would probably faint if they knew I had insisted on sleeping in the carriage and camping. They have their own ideas of what a woman should and should not do." Jacques looked back at the lady. "Good night," she said as she stood up and stepped back into the carriage. Isabel stuck her head out of the carriage door before closing it. "Tomorrow is a new day. New days are always better."

Jacques sighed. The lady is right, she thought. New days are always better.

D'Artagnan had barely slept. When sleep did come he dreamed of Jacqueline. Not Jacques, but the beautiful woman he had first seen five months earlier. He had adored her before that, but seeing her in that dress, as a real woman, that's when he knew he loved her. He didn't want her to go. He could not bear to let her go. Her words echoed through his head. 'I have no one here I care for.' They had stung. Ramon and Siroc had felt it too. Not like he had, but he could tell his friends were just as hurt that Jacques wanted to leave.

After she had left to stand watch, Siroc had told him and Ramon what she had said the night before. Ramon was just as puzzled as Siroc, but d'Artagnan knew the reasoning behind it. Had she given up? The answer was a resounding yes, and d'Artagnan couldn't help but blame himself for constantly harassing her.

He opened his eyes and sat straight up. Although it was not yet light, he could see the early traces of dawn. Someone should have woken him hours ago to stand watch. He rolled over and saw Siroc and Ramon still asleep. Ramon mumbled something about food. He jumped up and scanned the camp with his eyes. Jacques was no where to be seen.

He was about to wake his friends, when he heard a soft voice. "Good morning." He spun back around. Jacques stood behind him, holding a pot. The panic he felt quickly left. "I'm about to make some coffee. Would you like some?" She moved past him, putting another piece of wood on the fire, before setting the small pot on the hot, smoldering pieces. Her eyes were dark and she looked exhausted.

"You stood watch all night?" he asked, but already knew the answer. "Why didn't you wake us?"

Jacques didn't answer. She smiled at her friend before she sat and pulled a cloth from her pocket. She unfolded the dark fabric and handed him a croissant.

D'Artagnan took the croissant but did not take his eyes from her. Even as tired as she looked and dressed as a man, she was beautiful to him. "You should have woken us," he said, taking a bite.

"Perhaps." She reached for the pot in the fire, using the sleeve of her coat to pull it out. She poured the warm contents in a cup and handed it to him, then poured a cup for herself. She sipped it slowly, wiggling her toes as it warmed her. Jacques stared into her cup. She knew d'Artagnan was watching her.

"You're not really going to leave, are you?" he asked, his voice full of sadness, cracking slightly as he spoke the last two words.

She noted the pain in his voice. She didn't want to hurt him; he meant too much to her. But things were how they were. She looked up from her coffee, prepared to reaffirm what she had said the day before, but this time, she would explain instead of being so harsh. She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped and stood up.

"What is it?" D'Artagnan was on his feet as well, grabbing his rapier as he stood.

"I don't know." Her eyes were focused on the spot she had seen the shadow, the movement. She picked up her blade from where it laid on the ground and drew it from its sheath. "Wake the others," she said as she walked toward the trees.

D'Artagnan pulled his blade as she did. He kicked Ramon in the bottom of his boot, not taking his eyes of Jacques. He did the same to Siroc.

Two disheveled figures jumped up at the sight of their friend with his blade drawn. "What is wrong?" Ramon asked. D'Artagnan raised his hand to silence him. He began to move away from the fire toward Jacques, while Siroc and Ramon searched in the opposite direction.

"Jacques, behind you!" d'Artagnan yelled as the figure she had spotted moving jumped out behind her. She spun quickly, meeting his blade with her own. She was on the offensive. Her opponent continually thrusted, forcing her backward. He swung the blade at her head and she ducked, side-stepping him and coming up behind him, kicking him hard in the rear. He stumbled forward before regaining his balance and attacked again.

The battle was on. Within moments of d'Artagnan's cry, he, Siroc and Ramon where also clashing blades. They knew the masked, hooded men. They had fought them to many times to count in the past.

"Siroc, get to the carriage!" d'Artagnan yelled. Siroc was closest to the carriage. He had had just about enough of his opponent too. He was a methodical fighter, following the rules of engagement, for the most part. But his opponent fought dirty, and Siroc had almost been cut by the knife in the man's left hand, while trying to avoid a slicing swing to his head. His opponent thrusted, and like Jacques had done with her opponent, Siroc side-stepped him. But instead of stepping behind him, he grabbed the back of the man's cloak and forced his head into the backside of the carriage. He fell to the ground unconscious. Siroc smiled and brushed his hands off.

Siroc opened the door of the carriage. "Milady, we're under attack." He looked down embarrassed when he noticed she was not dressed, but wore a night gown and open robe.

Isabel had just finished tying her boots when the carriage door opened. She reached for her sword then relaxed when she realized it was Siroc. "I know that." She grabbed her sword out from under one of the cushions. As she stepped out of the carriage, she grabbed Siroc, throwing him to the side and bringing her blade up to meet the one that would have surely ended his life. Isabel quickly disposed of the man. Siroc nodded in appreciation. The lady offered him her hand to assist him up. The pair stared at each other for a long moment before assisting the others.

As quickly as it began, it was finished. Siroc stood with Isabel, d'Artagnan with Ramon. They looked around at the ten men who were now strewn about the campsite. The four fought to catch their breath.

"Well, at least we've had our morning practice," Ramon said, laughing heartily. His uncombed hair stuck out in every direction. Between the laughing and his appearance, Ramon looked a little insane.

"Where's Jacques?" d'Artagnan asked between breaths. The four looked at each other; each one had fear in their eyes.

As her friends finished defending themselves, Jacques pursued the man who had jumped her. She was tired from staying up all night, but adrenaline rushed through her body. She countered his moves, moving quickly and as precisely as she could; it was only a matter of time before she had him and that moment was now. Her blade pressed against his chest. His eyes went wide. "Surrender," she ordered, a coy little smile crossed her lips. She loved it when she won. "And, I let you live."

His deep voice let out a laugh that made Jacques' skin crawl. "I suggest you surrender," he said.

She tilted her head to the side, confused. "What?" An instant later she was on her knees. Her vision blurred and her head throbbed. She touched her fingers to the back of her head; she was bleeding. She tried to get up, but could not will her legs to do so. She tried again and this time, she felt someone lift her. He held a blade to her throat. She didn't have the strength to get away.

A gun shot echoed. D'Artagnan felt his heart stop for an instant. Jacqueline, he thought, rushing toward the sound of the gun. He rounded the carriage, with Siroc, Ramon and Isabel on his heels and stopped. Their horses rushed pasted them and in their stead sat a man on top of a horse with a gun in one hand and the reins of a horse in the other. Another man stood just in front of him, holding Jacques with a knife at her throat. She could barely stand.

"Drop the blades, musketeers, or your friend dies," the man on the horse ordered.

All four did as he asked. D'Artagnan's hands were shaking, and they all glared at the masked men. "We did as you asked. Let him go," D'Artagnan pled, agonized by the sight in front of him.

"Not quite," he said, the lips of his mouth curling in a frightful sneer. "Lady Isabel, get on the horse with me."

"What?" she said, clearly surprised at the command.

"Now, milady."

Isabel looked at her companions. Siroc shook his head for her not to go. She touched his arm and then climbed on the horse behind the man. As she climbed behind him, the other man climbed on to the second horse, pulling Jacques up on to the horse with him.

"Let him go." D'Artagnan stepped forward. Ramon grabbed his arm as he did because the man still had the knife to Jacques' throat. She had passed out.

"Not likely," the man spat. The horses walked slowly passed them. The man holding Isabel held the gun on the three until he was certain he and his companion were well out of reach, then turned and galloped, not looking back.

D'Artagnan, Ramon and Siroc stood watching. Their horses were gone and they were helpless to pursue at that moment. But each knew their duty, and they would fulfill it.

It was night when Jacques finally opened her eyes again to the world. Her head raged. Bindings cut into her legs and wrists, and she struggled to break her bonds.

"Jacques, you are awake?" a female voice asked.

"Yes," Jacques said, her voice barely audible, even by her own ears. Her voice was husky but not by her own accord.

She felt Isabel's hand slip into hers. The pair was bound with their backs together. "Do not worry, Jacques. We will make it through this." Isabel squeezed Jacques' hand. "Strong women can do anything."

As she realized what Isabel had just said, her eyes went wide and fear engulfed the injured musketeer.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Young Blades

**Chapter Four: About Time**

Jacques' hands trembled at Isabel's words. She tried her best to look herself over. Her head throbbed with every slight move and she could feel the back of her hair caked to her head with blood. She tilted her head forward and could feel something crusted on her neck as well. She still wore her uniform. Had she been discovered while she was unconscious? Did they know? What would they do to her? What did it matter? She would be gone if she came out of this alive. If, the word hung in her mind.

Isabel squeezed Jacques' hand again, sensing her panic. "Do not worry. They do not know and I will not reveal you," she whispered. "I give you my word."

"What," Jacques stopped, she felt like she was about to be sick. "What happened? How did we …" Jacques didn't finish. She was finding it hard to concentrate.

"You do not remember?" Isabel asked.

"No, milady."

Isabel felt Jacques slump against her again. "Jacques?" Isabel waited for a response. She looked over her shoulder, trying to see the injured woman. "Jacques?" She felt Jacques shift slightly.

"Yes, milady," Jacques finally said. Isabel fought to hear her.

Isabel hadn't even noticed she was holding her breath until she let it out. "Your friends gave up their swords to save your life and instead of letting you go, they took us both. That was this morning."

Jacques moaned, causing Isabel's heart to jump. The only comfort she could think to offer was to squeeze Jacques' hand again. This time Isabel felt her gently squeeze her hand back.

"Do not worry though. As I said, strong women can do anything, and we are," Isabel stopped as she noticed one of the masked men approaching, the man who had held the knife to Jacques' throat that morning. Isabel raised her chin and gave him the looked her mother called her defiant look.

He stopped walking and stared at Isabel. He laughed and then grabbed Jacques' horsetail, pulling down so that he could see her face. Her eyes could barely focus on the masked faced and his breath made her even more nauseous then she already was. She wanted nothing more than to hit him at that moment.

"We were beginning to think that you were dead." He laughed again then yanked her horsetail upward, forcing Jacques' head forward. She bit her lip, refusing to let him hear her cry out. "Whatever you two were talking about, stop it or I'll kill him now," he hissed at Isabel and then kicked Jacques hard in her hip, sending both women over onto their side. This time Jacques could not hide the pain and cried out, but her cry was muffled by Isabel's yelling.

Isabel cursed and glared at the man, wishing for a blade. She would show him who was truly weaker; Isabel silently vowed that he would know that woman were not weak as she watched him walk away. His creepy laugh echoed behind him.

"Jacques," Isabel called quietly. She felt Jacques move. "I have a knife in my right boot. I've been trying to get to it all day without any success. If you can reach it, we can cut our binds." She waited for a response, nothing came. "Jacques?" Isabel felt her move again.

"I will try, milady."

Isabel brought her boots up as far as she could to their hands, but it was no where close enough. "Jacques, we must sit back up."

Jacques forced herself to sit up with Isabel. Her head protested and every movement made her feel sicker. She wanted nothing more than to sleep, but first they had to get away or Jacques knew she would be truly joining at least two members of her family. Isabel brought her legs under herself. Jacques felt with her fingertips for Isabel's boots and the top of the knife. She slowly pulled it out, before carefully turning the blade around to cut the ropes that were at their wrist. It was slow and painful. Jacques could feel her blood dripping down her fingers. She had cut her hand flipping the blade around. But she continued, despite the pain and lack of strength, she knew Isabel was right. They were strong women and they could do anything they set their mind to.

"D'Artagnan, how much longer are we going to search? We will never find them alone," Roman asked. Ramon sat behind Siroc, riding Jacques' mare.

"We will find them, Ramon," d'Artagnan snapped, emphasizing the will. He kicked his horse, urging her forwarded. He wouldn't give up. He couldn't give up.

The three had spent most of the morning searching for the horses on foot. They had finally found the horse d'Artagnan rode and Jacques' mare eating grass by the river. The three had been searching since without rest. But d'Artagnan refused to rest or do anything but track his friend and the woman they had been assigned to protect. He would not stop until he knew Jacques, no, Jacqueline, was safe. She was hurt. He had seen the blood and the look in her eyes. He would not rest until she was safe, and not just safe, but with him.

Siroc and Ramon felt the same, but the long hours of the day were starting to take a toll on them. It was dark and the new moon made it impossible to see. They were tired, hungry and quickly losing hope that they would find them. But to return to Paris for help would not be the best idea either. Captain Duval and the king would be furious that they had failed in their duty and let another musketeer be taken, and by the time they returned they most certainly would not find them. At least, they would not find them alive. They had to resolve this themselves.

D'Artagnan pulled the hood of his cloak up over his head. The night was much cooler than it had been the previous night. He looked up at the sky, thankful that he could still see the stars. He closed his eyes and silently prayed for help. As he opened his eyes, he abruptly stopped his horse. "Did you hear that?" he asked his friends.

"I most certainly did," Siroc said, his fatigue forgotten.

"As did I," Ramon acknowledged.

Siroc brought the mare up next to d'Artagnan, who had been leading. D'Artagnan looked over at his friends. They seemed to know what he was thinking because they dismounted without d'Artagnan saying a word and tied the horse to a nearby tree branch. They would go the rest of the way on foot.

Jacques had managed to cut their binds. Her head continued to swim, and it had been a long and tedious task. But she had done it and cut their legs free as well. Now that they were free, Jacques wasn't sure what to do. She could barely sit up and she knew Isabel would have a better chance escaping alone.

"Milady, you must go alone," she whispered. "I don't think I can walk."

"Well, then we will continue to sit like this because I'm not leaving without you," Isabel whispered back. "Do your friends always take this long to rescue their charges?" she said, trying to lighten the mood.

"Not usually, milady," Jacques laughed lightly then stopped when pain shot through her body.

Isabel had also stopped laughing but for another reason. The masked man who had been so brutal was coming back, sword in his hand. He grabbed Isabel's arm roughly, expecting to drag both prisoners to their feet. But instead was surprised when Isabel punched him. The knock barely fazed him and he threw her to the ground.

As he moved toward Isabel, Jacques used what strength she had to bring Isabel's knife up, putting the full length of the blade in his thigh. He screamed in pain and backhanded Jacques, sending her flying. Jacques lay on the ground, her body shaking. She didn't have the strength to move. He was coming; she could feel it. He was going to kill her, but all she could do was lay there.

He wanted nothing more than to kill the man who had just stabbed him and bested him that morning. He brought the blade to strike but a hand stopped him. He looked into the eyes of the man who had saved his life and lowered his sword.

"He will be dead soon enough. Leave him and bring Lady Isabel," he ordered. Reluctantly, he did what he was told.

Three pairs of eyes watch from the bushes the trail of horses and lanterns negotiating a narrow path through the dense forest. There were five men and Isabel. D'Artagnan shuddered and his hands began to shake. They would have left Jacqueline for only one reason. She was dead. His anger was growing and he wanted nothing more than to avenge her. He looked over at Siroc, whose hand was on his arm, and knew Siroc was thinking the same thing. He nodded his head and all three moved in to attack.

When Jacques opened her eyes again, everything was black. She was cold, bloody and dirty, but more importantly, she was still alive. She heard the shouts in the distance and the clashing of steal. Her friends were close. She lifted herself to her knees and then willed herself to stand. One foot in front of the other, that's all it takes, she thought, as she began to move through the trees. She held one hand in front of her in case she fell and used the other to grasp the trees to support herself. She could see the lanterns burning. It wasn't too much farther and then she would be safe. Safe, what a strange thought, she thought.

Jacques stumbled and fell to her knees. Her entire body shook violently, but she could see them now. D'Artagnan, Siroc, Ramon and even Isabel were countering every one of their opponents' moves and one by one their opponents fell. Jacques smiled. These were her friends. She got up and kept moving.

As soon as the fight was over, d'Artagnan rushed to Isabel. His hands had not stopped shaking. "Where is Jacques?" He grabbed her by her shoulders.

"He is in the clearing. Not far from here," she answered, stepping back out of his grasp and right into Siroc. She jumped and spun around, surprised. Siroc only smiled and took off his cloak, putting it around her shoulders. "Thank you," she said. Siroc only nodded.

"Can you take us to him?" Siroc asked, pulling Isabel away from his upset friend.

Before she could answer, a gun fired. The four spun around. The man Isabel had vowed to show that women were not weak stood just behind d'Artagnan, his gun aimed point blank at him. D'Artagnan looked into his eyes as the man fell to his knees then toppled over onto the ground. As the musketeer looked up, his heart leapt. Standing amongst the trees, Jacques stood next to one of the bodies holding a gun. It took all of his strength not to run to her and kiss her right then.

"Jacques," Siroc said.

"Amigo," Ramon called.

Jacques was glad to see them but it was d'Artagnan whose gaze she held. "It's about time you showed up," she teased before darkness claimed her once again and she passed out.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Young Blades

**Chapter Five: Horses, Blood, Sweat and Jacqueline**

The smell of horses, blood and sweat filled Jacqueline's nose as she inhaled. She could hear the pounding of hooves and felt the wind against her body. She was moving and fast. Her body was numb but she could still feel something warm wrapped around her. Her head rested against something. She opened her eyes and at first she wasn't sure she had actually opened them. Her eyes adjusted and she could see the outline of a masculine face. She knew those features. She had studied them so many times. It was d'Artagnan who held her tightly. Her head was on his shoulder and his arm was wrapped around her. She didn't ever want him to let her go.

"How much farther?" he asked. His words trailed off in the wind and Jacqueline did not hear them. She watched the outline of his lips move. She loved those lips.

"Not much. We should be almost there," Isabel answered his question. She clung to Siroc; his cloak flowed behind from her shoulders. Jacqueline could see their outline on the horse that ran rhythmically with the horse she and d'Artagnan rode. She closed her eyes again. Her head felt like it had been split in two. She moved her head slightly, moving it forward so that her head was close to his neck.

D'Artagnan felt her stir. He looked down but could only see her outline. It was the first time she had moved in hours. Several times he had moved his hand to her chest to make sure he could still feel her breathing, afraid that she had died in his arms.

The fear he felt when he saw her fall still gripped him. He had gotten to her first and without thinking, he had picked her up like the woman he knew she was instead of another man helping a fallen friend. He had immediately grabbed the nearest horse and put her on it and climbed on behind her. His mind had been garbled with thoughts on where to take her. He had to protect her, but before he could decide, Isabel had grabbed his arm and whispered so that only he could hear, "Take her to my home in Le Havre. We will get other horses and catch up with you." He had nodded and had ridden hard since, his friends catching up only moments earlier.

"Hold on, Jacqueline," he whispered, and then kicked his horse harder, praying for more speed.

Isabel pushed open the double doors to her family home. Her dirty night gown brushed the floor as she walked. Her hair hung freely, the ends holding only a trace of the curls that had been there when they had started for Le Havre. The light of a gray dawn had just begun to caress the eastern sky, and Isabel moved with haste. D'Artagnan followed close behind her with Jacqueline in his arms. Siroc and Ramon trailed behind him.

"Jean," she called. The young man, hearing her loud entrance immediately rushed to meet her. "Go get the doctor. Do not delay," she commanded.

"Yes, milady," he answered before rushing past the group on his designated task.

"Sophia," Isabel yelled.

"Milady, we feared the worst when you did not arrive yesterday," her servant spoke as she rushed to meet her lady.

"Never mind that, Sophia. I need you to bring warm water and some towels," Isabel instructed. She turned to d'Artagnan. "Take him upstairs. The last room on the right, at the end of the hall."

D'Artagnan didn't even respond before ascending the large staircase. Siroc and Ramon started to follow him.

"Siroc, Ramon," Isabel stood behind them; she held one of their arms in each of her hands. Both men turned at her touch. "Go and wait in the music room. It's just through those doors." She released their arms and pointed to the doors.

"But, milady, we wish to be with our friend," Siroc responded. He was afraid for Jacques and wanted nothing more than to sit with him.

"There is nothing you can do. Now, I suggest you do as I say. I will have Sophia make up rooms for you when I am finished with her help. Until then, wait in the music room."

This time Ramon started to argue. "Milady, we will see our friend," Ramon insisted. He crossed his arms and scrunched his eyebrows down, eyeing her defiantly.

Isabel tightened her jaw and straightened her back, stepping forward to look both musketeers in their eyes. "If you do not do as I say, so help me I will write my cousin and tell him how outraged I am that you allowed me to be kidnapped and demand your dismissal from the musketeers." Isabel didn't wait for a response. She was half way up the stairs when Siroc and Ramon went into the music room. Well, your secret's safe for now, she thought as she thanked God her words had convinced them to do as she said.

D'Artagnan slowly undid the buttons on her tunic. He had already pulled her boots off and pulled the tie out of her hair. In the light, he could see how bruised and battered she was. Her neck and hair were caked in blood, and the front of her tunic was stained with it. Her blood covered his shoulder as well. She was not bleeding heavily, but over the course of a day and night, she had bled enough. He touched her dirty cheek with the backside of his hand, brushing some of the dirt off. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

"D'Artagnan, you'll need to go downstairs." Isabel squeezed his shoulder. "I would let you stay, but I told your friends that they could not come up, and if you don't go, they will think something's amiss."

"I won't leave her." His voice was barely above a whisper. He was afraid that he'd never get the chance to tell her how much he cared for her.

"If you care for her, you will go," Isabel insisted, noting the pained look on his face.

D'Artagnan stood up from where he sat on the bed. He started walking toward the door as Sophia came in the room with the water and towels. He stopped. "Milady, how did you know about her, and how did you know that I knew?"

Isabel laughed. "Because only a woman could make a man as angry as she made you when you thought she had left." Sophia handed her a damp towel and she began to wipe the blood off of Jacqueline's face. "D'Artagnan?"

He had his hand on the door. "Yes."

"What is her real name?"

"Jacqueline, milady." D'Artagnan closed the door behind him. He paused with his hand still on the door knob and took a deep breath, finally feeling the fatigue he had been ignoring for far too long.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Young Blades

**Chapter Six: A Strange Dream**

Jacqueline opened her eyes. She could feel the bed beneath her and the soft, warm covers over her. Where was she? Her mind was fuzzy. She had had a dream that they had been attacked just before dawn, that someone had hit her and that she had walked, no stumbled, through a wooded area. She could remember the smell of horses and blood and someone holding her. It had to have been a dream. But where was she? She sat up, suddenly realizing she was wearing a night gown. Her hand went immediately to her head and she fell back on the soft pillows in pain. Perhaps it hadn't been a strange dream.

She sat up again, slowly this time, turning and bringing her feet over the side until they touched a soft rug on the floor. Her legs and body began to shake but she forced herself to stand. She slowly felt her way across the room, until her hand touched hanging fabric. Finding the edge, she pulled the fabric back and light filled the room. She turned her head, blinded by the light and taking a few moments before looking out the window again. She could see the ocean. She was in Le Havre. She looked down and smiled. Ramon and Siroc where practicing in front of the house. It had to be late morning, but what morning was it and did her friends know what she was?

The thought of Siroc and Ramon knowing her secret seemed less frightening then it had been before they left Paris. The fact that they were still even in the same house as her was a good sign, maybe, she thought, maybe they would understand why she was leaving if they knew. Maybe.

Her eyes returned to the ocean. She would be crossing it soon, finding her brother and discovering a new life, a free life. Jacqueline closed her eyes. She had been considering leaving for so long and had made her final decision on the road to Le Havre. She would go, but this time, the thought of leaving made her sad. Her fingers touched her lips. If what happened to her the last few days hadn't been a dream, then d'Artagnan had kissed her when he thought she was asleep. She remembered his gentle voice, his words. 'You cannot leave me, Jacqueline. I love you too much.' Her fingers went to her cheek. He had caressed her cheek. But what did it matter? She could never be free here. She could never be his and she still longed for family. She closed the door to her heart. She would leave.

Jacqueline stepped away from the window, leaving the curtain open so that she could see. When she turned around, she stopped. D'Artagnan was asleep in a chair on the other side of the room with his bare feet on a stool. He wore a pair of pants and his long hair hung freely. His head rested in a position that looked completely uncomfortable. She felt her stomach flutter and legs shake more than they already were. She moved slowly toward him.

Jacqueline gently touched his cheek, her fingers running over the bruises on his face. The one she had given him had faded to a sickly yellow and was almost gone. As she started to pull her hand away, d'Artagnan grabbed it with the hand that had supported his head and jumped up. She had startled him. Jacqueline, surprised by his abrupt movement, stumbled. But before she could completely fall, d'Artagnan caught her. His arms were wrapped around her, lifting her back to her feet. She felt her entire body tremble as she looked up to meet his eyes. She thought, hoped, he would kiss her.

D'Artagnan could feel her shaking in his arms, her chest pressed against his. He studied her for a few moments, before bending over and picking her up. "You shouldn't be out of bed," he said as he carried her back to the bed and laid her down gently.

Jacqueline immediately was cross. "I'm not a baby, d'Artagnan," she snapped, trying to sit up but failing when the pain in her head disagreed with her movement.

D'Artagnan pulled the covers back over her. "I'm not trying to baby you, Jacqueline," he retorted. "But, you shouldn't be out of bed yet. Someone managed to actually crack that hard head of yours."

She glared at him. She hated it when he pretended to know what was best for her. "How long have I been asleep?" She pushed the covers off of herself just to spite him.

D'Artagnan shook his head, rolled his eyes, pulled the covers back over her for the second time and sat down on the bed next to her before he answered her question. "Since the night before last. Isabel said you were out for almost a day before we actually found you."

"Oh," was all that Jacqueline said. A retorted had gone through her head about how the great d'Artagnan was losing his touch, but she had decided not to pick a fight. "So, I suppose Siroc and Ramon know now." She closed her eyes to avoid his gaze.

"No, Isabel threatened to write the king and have us dismissed from the musketeers if we tried to see you before you woke up. She told them that the doctor had said that you shouldn't be disturbed."

"Then why are you in here?" she asked, now fidgeting with the top the blanket.

"I came in here last night after everyone had gone to bed. They probably still think I'm asleep. None of us have slept much in the past few days." The pair sat in silence for a few minutes before d'Artagnan spoke again. "How much do you remember?" he asked.

"Not much. The last thing I remember was handing you the cup of coffee. The rest feels like a dream."

"Well, I assure you it wasn't a dream. Siroc, Ramon and I alone have enough bruises to prove otherwise. Lady Isabel even has a few of her own." D'Artagnan laughed lightly. One side of his mouth curled up into a lopsided grin. "I think Siroc is a little taken with her."

"She rode with him," Jacqueline stated.

D'Artagnan's expression changed. "How did you know that?"

"I don't know. I mostly remember the smell of the horses and feeling the wind. I have an image stuck in my mind of her riding with Siroc. As I said, for all I know it was a dream." Jacqueline brought her hand up and massaged her forehead with her fingertips. The pain in her head was becoming almost unbearable. It hurt to think.

D'Artagnan watched her rub her forehead. He silently wished he could take the pain from her. "I sent word to Captain Duval that you were hurt," he said. "We received word late last night that the three of us have permission to stay with you until you're well enough to return to Paris." He smiled at her again. "Personally, I could use a few days off."

Jacqueline choked. He was expecting her to return to Paris. She had meant what she had said on the road. "D'Artagnan, I'm not returning to Paris." She had lifted herself up on to her right arm to show him that she was serious.

"What do you mean, you're not returning to Paris?" D'Artagnan stood up abruptly. She couldn't possibly be serious. He could feel the anger growing in him. He wouldn't let her leave. She had a duty to perform. After everything that had happened in the past six months, she owed it to the musketeers not to dessert them. She owed it to him not to leave.

"I told you, d'Artagnan. I'm going to find Gerard. I can't stand it here anymore. I have no one, no family, nothing. The only reason I even started this façade was to save Gerard's life. The musketeers were a child's dream for me, nothing more. I want to be free now. I want what's left of my family." By the time she had finished speaking, she was shouting through clenched teeth. Why doesn't he understand? she asked herself.

D'Artagnan stiffened. "Fine, if that's what you want, then leave. We don't need you anyway." He almost choked on his words. The thought of her leaving was killing him, but he knew the look in her eyes. He could read her soul through those eyes. There would be no changing her mind.

Jacqueline could feel the tears forming in her eyes. She would not cry, not in front of him. "Well, if that's the way you feel, d'Artagnan, then I suggest the three of you leave for Paris." She rolled over, unable to look at him further.

D'Artagnan didn't respond. His hands balled into fists and he shook his head as he walked out the door, shutting it behind him. Jacqueline buried her face in one of the pillows and sobbed, torn between finding her brother and being free and the man she knew she loved but could never have.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own Young Blades

**Chapter Seven: Decision**

D'Artagnan sat on the bed in the room Sophia had prepared for him. He had yet to actually sleep in the room. When they had arrived in Le Havre, Ramon, Siroc and d'Artagnan had fallen asleep in the music room. When they had woken up, they had tried to see Jacqueline (or Jacques to Ramon and Siroc), but Lady Isabel had refused to let them anywhere near her. Her threat had worked and for now, Ramon and Siroc were staying away.

As he pulled on his boots, d'Artagnan wished he had listened to the lady. He was so relieved when he woke up and found Jacqueline standing over him. He had hoped to show her how much he cared, but as usual when it came to Jacqueline, he had failed miserably. She made him feel insane at times. His mother had once told him that love was one step closer to insanity. Love had a way of affecting even the most reasonable person into doing something uncharacteristic. Perhaps his love for her was blinding him to what Jacqueline really needed. But he couldn't help but be angry that she wanted to leave the musketeers. And leave him.

Isabel opened the door to Jacqueline's room slowly. She frequently checked on her to see if she had woken. The last time she had been in the room the night before, Jacqueline had still slept. But as she opened the door, she knew that was no longer the case. With her face buried in a pillow, Jacqueline's body quivered on the bed. Isabel shut the door behind her and went to the bedside, sitting on the edge of the bed. Isabel placed her hand on Jacqueline's shoulder. "Jacqueline," she said.

Jacqueline jumped; she had not heard Isabel come into the room. She rolled to face the lady, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"You must be feeling better if you have enough energy to cry." Isabel smiled warmly at Jacqueline, trying her best to comfort her. "What is wrong?" Isabel brushed a strand of Jacqueline's dark, curly hair out of her eyes.

Jacqueline took several deep breaths, trying to calm herself. Her chin quivered. "I had planned to leave the musketeers. I," she stopped, taking another breath. "I still plan on leaving."

"But why? You fight better than most and you have a strength of heart that I even envy." Isabel took Jacqueline's hand, squeezing it gently.

"I wish to be with my family again, milady. I have nothing here." Jacqueline sniffled.

"Are you sure you have nothing?" Isabel asked. Her eyes locked with Jacqueline's.

"Yes," Jacqueline whispered, tears forming in her eyes again.

Isabel nodded her head and squeezed Jacqueline's hand one last time before letting go. "I will have Sophia bring you something to eat," she said as she stood.

"No." Isabel turned back to face Jacqueline. "I will dress and come down. Siroc and Ramon will wish to see me if they know I am awake. They cannot see me like this."

"I don't believe that to be a wise decision, but it is yours." Isabel tilted her head slightly and studied Jacqueline for a moment before leaving her to dress.

Isabel was furious as she shut the door to Jacqueline's room. There was only one reason why Jacqueline would have set her mind to leaving. D'Artagnan had said something to her. Isabel had hoped to convince her otherwise when she recovered. France needed strong women like her. And Isabel had taken a strong liking to this daring woman in the short time she had known her. Jacqueline's friends needed her as much as France did. Just like a man to ruin it all, she thought. Isabel could still hear the clash of blades from outside. She set her jaw and held on to her anger. She would show him, not tell him, how furious she was.

Isabel came flying out the front doors in time see Ramon fall backward onto the ground with d'Artagnan's blade at his chest. Siroc stood off to the side, holding his blade with both hands and smiling. D'Artagnan was in a mood.

"I hope Jacques gets well soon, my friend. Fighting you when you are in a foul mood is not exactly what I had in mind for morning practice," Ramon said, breathing heavily.

D'Artagnan lowered his blade and offered Ramon his hand. Ramon gladly took it.

Isabel stopped beside Siroc and held out her hand. He jumped slightly when he noticed her standing there with her hand out. "Your blade please, Siroc." Although confused as to why she wanted his blade, he handed it to her, and without hesitation she walked swiftly toward d'Artagnan and Ramon as Ramon stood. "Milady," both men said in unison. Isabel stepped between d'Artagnan and Ramon, facing D'Artagnan. She was much shorter than he, but she stepped up to him in what was clearly a challenge. "On guard," she said.

D'Artagnan took a step back. "Milady, that wouldn't be appropriate. You're, you're a lady," he stuttered.

Isabel glared at her opponent. "I said, on guard, d'Artagnan." She raised Siroc's blade, and as d'Artagnan raised his, she struck.

Ramon stood next to Siroc with his arms crossed watching d'Artagnan spar with Lady Isabel. "What do you think that's about?" he asked Siroc.

"I don't know, but I'd hate to be d'Artagnan right now." Siroc was clearly enjoying the spectacle.

Blades clashed, counter for counter. Their eyes locked with each moved. She was angry with him although he didn't know why. He recognized the fire in her eyes. He'd seen it often in Jacqueline's. She pushed his blade up and came up close to his face. "You are a fool," she hissed, before they separated again. "Arrogant (clash) men (clash) such as (clash) yourself (clash) is (clash) what is (clash) wrong (clash) with (clash) France!" As she spoke her last word, Isabel spun on her heel and ducked his blade, lifting Siroc's to d'Artagnan's throat. She had won, but her words had left d'Artagnan slightly puzzled.

She stared at him for a moment before lowering the rapier. Isabel felt better. Without a word to d'Artagnan, she walked back over to the inventor and handed him his blade. "Thank you, Siroc," she said as she tried to catch her breath.

"My pleasure, milady." Siroc had a large smile on his face.

Isabel looked down, blushing from Siroc's gaze. When she looked back up, she addressed Ramon and Siroc. "Your friend is awake. He is dressing now but should be down shortly to join us in a meal." Isabel watched their expressions change from that of amusement to pure happiness.

"You hear that, d'Artagnan?" Ramon called. "Jacques is awake."

D'Artagnan returned his smile, but only to mask what he truly felt. His friends, his brothers, would soon feel it as well.

As they came in the front door, Jacqueline, dressed as Jacques again, came down the staircase. She smiled at her friends. Ramon and Siroc rushed to greet her. Ramon threw his arm around her shoulders as they walked toward the dining room. "My friend, you look as if you can barely walk." Jacqueline turned her head to look at Ramon. He was grinning, flashing his teeth with the joyful expression.

"That's because I can barely walk," she answered, returning his smile.

"Then why are you up?" Siroc asked from the opposite side.

"Because I could not tolerate being in bed any longer." She turned to look at Siroc. She could feel d'Artagnan's gaze burning into the back of her head, but she could not look at him. He made her want to cry.

"We were hoping you would…" Siroc paused, trying to think of the right word. "Delay your recovery for a few days. After this last week, we are enjoying having some time off before we returned to Paris." The smiled had left Jacqueline's face.

D'Artagnan stood in the entryway to the dinning room. His arms were crossed and he clenched his jaw, trying to fight his emotions. He watched Siroc pull out a chair for Lady Isabel before the other three sat at the table. The conversation and laughter suddenly stopped, and d'Artagnan realized that all four were staring at him.

"Are you going to join us?" Ramon asked, puzzled why his friend was not yet sitting.

D'Artagnan's eyes move to Jacqueline. "Are you going to tell them or should I?" he asked her.

Jacqueline's eyes met his and she couldn't help but glare. Why was he pushing her? She had wanted to enjoy a meal with her friends before she told them that she was indeed leaving, and d'Artagnan had just ruined it.

"Tell us what, Jacques?" Siroc asked her.

She faced her friends again. "I am not returning to Paris with you." D'Artagnan shook his head and left the room. "I am leaving the musketeers," she finally said after a long pause. She could not look at her friends any longer or she would cry.

"Jacques, you of all people should know that you belong with the musketeers." She could feel Siroc's thoughtful eyes watching her. "Everything that's happened this last week —"

Siroc did not finish before Jacqueline interrupted him. "Of what I remember Siroc, the only thing this week has taught me is that my carelessness got Lady Isabel kidnapped and me with her. I do not belong here and as I said before, I will be leaving to find my brother." Her words came out harsh. She didn't want to be harsh, not with them, but it was taking all of her strength to convince her friends that she had to go. She looked back up. Ramon was watching her. He had not yet spoken and she hoped he would not. She looked over at Siroc who would not look at her at all and then at Lady Isabel, but she could not read her eyes. This was the way it had to be.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own Young Blades

**Chapter Eight: Good-byes**

Jacqueline stared up at the ceiling. Yesterday had not gone well. She had returned to her room shortly after she had told Ramon and Siroc and had not come out since. Her friends were clearly upset with her for wanting to leave. She had only spoken to Lady Isabel, who had been kind enough to find her passage on a ship to Plymouth, England. She could find a ship from there to take her to the Americas.

They would be leaving for Paris this morning without her, and she, in turn, would be leaving later that day on her own journey. She looked over to the open window and could see the dawn coming. She had not slept and could not help but cry. Why did she feel this way? This is what she wanted? She prayed they would not leave before she could say good-bye. She had feared it all night.

She got out of bed and pulled on a clean shirt, her pants and boots before she went and stood in front of the mirror. She picked up the brush from the vanity and brushed her hair back the way she always did, and stared at the reflection, at the face her friends saw. What was it about him that they could not let go? She threw the brush down and stood up abruptly. She hated good-byes.

She closed her eyes when she heard the knock at the door. "Come in," she said.

Isabel held a candle although the morning light was enough to see without it. "You're friends are up. They are preparing to leave."

Jacqueline only nodded. She took a deep breath, something she found herself doing a lot to calm herself. "I'll be right down." She was going to do this.

When Jacqueline came out the front doors, d'Artagnan, Ramon and Siroc were already out there. Their horses were saddled and they were preparing to leave. Isabel spoke quietly with Siroc, but stopped when they saw Jacqueline. Her three friends guided their horses by the reins and stopped in front of her. D'Artagnan would not look at her. She looked at Siroc first. There was a sadness there that she had only half expected. He extended his hand to her and as she took it, he surprised her further by pulling her into a hug. "You don't have to go, Jacques," he said, pleading one last time.

She bit her lip. Jacques wouldn't cry, so she wouldn't let herself either. "Yes, I do, Siroc. You've been a good friend, and I shall miss you," she said. She pulled away and he let go of her hand. She turned to Ramon, studying the Spaniard's face, not wanting to forget any detail of her friend. "Good-bye, Ramon," she finally said when he didn't speak. She started to turn to d'Artagnan, but Ramon grabbed her and hugged her as Siroc had. When he finally let her go, he refused to look at her.

As she turned to d'Artagnan, he crossed his arms. She studied his face much as she had Ramon's, but found herself looking in his eyes. She could feel the tears coming. She had to make it quick. Jacqueline pulled a piece of parchment from her pocket and extended it to d'Artagnan. "Please give that to Captain Duval. It is my resignation and will explain everything."

He looked down at the parchment for a moment before he took it. His hands were trembling. When he looked back up, Jacqueline could see the tears forming in his eyes. "Take care of yourself, d'Artagnan," she said.

"I always do," he said before turning and mounting his horse. Ramon and Siroc had already done the same. As he started to turn his horse away from her, she yelled, "D'Artagnan!" He turned back around to face her, praying she had changed her mind. He could see her shaking. "Thank you," she said, barely able to get the words out.

"For what?" he asked. His face contorted with the pain he was feeling.

"For everything," she answered. She looked down, unable to look at him anymore.

He saw the tears start to run down her cheeks, and it was everything he could do not to start crying. "You're welcome," he answered, almost choking on the words. He kicked his horse, turning and riding away with Siroc and Ramon behind him.

Jacqueline stood near the cliffs that were not far from the front of Isabel's home, staring out at the ocean. Since dawn, she had changed into one of Isabel's dresses. She no longer was Jacques Leponte, but once again Jacqueline Roget. The woman she once was and would be forever. Her face was red and swollen from crying, and despite the view before her, she could not get d'Artagnan's face out of her mind. Every comical look, every smile, every flirtatious gaze flashed through her mind. She would miss him, miss them all, for the rest of her life. But what waited across the ocean was something she could never have here.

Her thoughts of d'Artagnan and her friends consumed her. Five months earlier, when Charles had asked her to go, she would have gone had he not lied to her. But now, leaving was far more emotional than she ever dreamed it would be.

"Jacqueline," Isabel called. She stood behind Jacqueline. "It is almost time to go."

Jacqueline wiped the tears from her check. "I am ready, Milady." As they walked back to the house, Isabel put her arm around her shoulders.

D'Artagnan, Ramon and Siroc had not spoken since they had left Le Havre. Each felt as if something was missing. D'Artagnan especially felt it. He should have told her how much he loved her, but she was always so difficult. If only he had one more chance. He stopped his horse. He had to do something.

Siroc and Ramon stopped as he did. "What is wrong?" Ramon asked, looking around.

D'Artagnan turned his horse around to face his friends. "Do either of you want him to leave?"

"Of course not, but you know how stubborn Jacques is," Siroc answered. His eyes revealed his grief.

"Yes, I do," D'Artagnan said. "And if we hurry, we might still stop him." For the first time since they had left, d'Artagnan saw his friends smile. They were going back.

When the carriage door opened, Jacqueline felt her heart skip a beat. She could see the ship from the door. The man, who had opened the door, offered her his hand. She took it and stepped out onto the dock at Le Havre. He did the same for Lady Isabel. She could only stare at the ship that was about to take her from France.

"Are you sure about this, Jacqueline?" Lady Isabel asked. She stood beside Jacqueline.

"Yes. What's left of my family is on the other side of that ocean. I need my family," she said again, but this time there was not as much force behind her words as there had been when she told her friends.

Isabel took her hand in hers and turned to face her. "Well then, I wish you luck. But you should know something," she said.

"And what would that be?" Jacqueline asked. She could not look at Isabel.

Isabel moved her hand to Jacqueline's chin and lifted until her eyes met hers. "Family isn't just about blood, and you have far more than you think you do." The two women considered each other for a short moment before Isabel spoke again. "Good-bye, Jacqueline. I hope you find all that you seek." Isabel stepped back into the carriage.

Jacqueline watched Isabel drive off, then returned her eyes to the ship. Tears were streaming down her checks again. She closed her eyes and prayed.

"Are you coming aboard, milady?" a young man's voice asked. Jacqueline opened her eyes but did not answer.

D'Artagnan nearly jumped off his horse before coming to a complete stop. Before he could reach the doors to Isabel's home, Sophia walked out. D'Artagnan grabbed her. "Where is Jacques?" he asked. His demeanor urged haste.

"Milady took your friend to the dock."

"What ship?"

"It's an English ship, monsieur. I believe the Lady Angel," she answered.

"Thank you," he said as he jumped back on to his horse. The three rode off without another word.

The three searched the docks for what seemed like forever. They were having no luck finding the ship. D'Artagnan finally jumped off his horse and grabbed a boy not more than thirteen years old. "Do you know the ship Lady Angel?"

"Y-yes," the boy said, a little frightened by d'Artagnan.

"Well, where is it?" he demanded. Siroc and Ramon dismounted, anxiously awaiting the answer.

"It has sailed. It is there." The boy pointed to a ship that was just leaving Le Havre's small harbor. D'Artagnan let the boy go and felt his heart sink. She was gone. They hadn't made it in time. What a fool he'd been for so long. Now she'd never know how much he loved her. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to look at his friends.

Siroc squeezed his shoulder. "We will all miss her, my friend," he said.

It took d'Artagnan a moment to realize what Siroc had said. "You knew?" He felt a hand on his other shoulder.

"I've known for quite a while, amigo," Ramon said. "She was a fiery one." There eyes went back to the ship. D'Artagnan felt the tears coming again, and this time, he didn't know if he could hold them back. But he was not alone.

"Leave it to you two, to see right through me." They heard the voice but didn't want to believe it. It couldn't be. They turned around expecting to see their friend, Jacques, but were greeted instead by a woman, who looked like an angel. But the face was unmistakable. She wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Jacqueline," d'Artagnan whispered her name. He didn't move. He was afraid to move in case she wasn't real. "You didn't leave."

"No. I couldn't." She felt her body trembling. She stepped forward toward her friends.

"Why?" d'Artagnan asked. She could see the tears in his eyes.

"Lady Isabel said something to me that made me realize something."

"And what would that be?"

"That I've been living in the past for far too long, and my family is here," she paused as tears started to run down her cheeks. "It's you three." As she finished her words, d'Artagnan found the will to move. He took two strides and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly to him. He pulled away slowly, and pressed his forehead against hers. He was crying. "Did you mean what you said?" she asked.

"When?" he whispered.

"When you thought I was asleep. That you love me."

"With every breath I breathe, Jacqueline." As he finished his words, he pulled her closer. His lips gently caressed hers. He felt his stomach flutter as she pulled him to her.

Siroc and Ramon watched their friends for a moment before Siroc hit Ramon's arm with the back of his hand and jerked his head toward the horses. Ramon nodded. They rode off, leaving Jacqueline and d'Artagnan kissing on the dock.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own Young Blades

**Chapter Nine: The Road Home**

Jacqueline was unsure how long she and d'Artagnan had stood on the docks kissing, but the thought of his kisses still made her stomach flutter. She couldn't help but feel happy. She was going home, to Paris, to the garrison and with the three men she cared for, two as brothers and one as something much more. Isabel had been right; family was much more than blood and her friends were as dear to her as Gerard.

Jacqueline was dressed as a musketeer again, but it didn't matter; her attire was a means to do what she loved and to be with the people she loved. She no longer felt the need to trade it to feel free. They would be in Paris soon. However, the foursome was taking their sweet time, extending their vacation a bit.

Jacqueline's head occasionally would throb and she scratched at her throat where the knife had nicked her. But it was minor compared to the warmth she felt. She felt her cheeks flush as her mind wondered back to d'Artagnan kissing her. She could feel his eyes on her as she rode. She looked out of the corner of her eyes at him, a coy little smile on her face, and their eyes met. He lifted his eyebrows and smiled back. Jacqueline turned away quickly. He made her crazy, but now the feeling wasn't aggravation but complete desire. She would definitely have to tame that.

She could tell her friends were glad to have her back. Siroc and Ramon hadn't treated her any different now that they officially knew the woman behind their friend. But one thing still puzzled her about her friends. They had known that she was Jacqueline. But how? She scrunched her face. "Siroc," she called. He rode just in front of her, d'Artagnan and Ramon, who rode side by side. He turned around in the saddle at the sound of his name. "How did you know that I was a woman?" Her lips where pursed together in thin line.

Siroc smiled. "I've known since the first time we met." He turned back around.

Jacqueline kicked her horse and caught up with him. "How?" she was staring hard at him.

"Because I see the world different than most." He started laughing hard. He tried to stop, but his face turned red. "My observations were confirmed about a month later when I heard d'Artagnan flirting shamelessly with you just before you told him to jump in the river with a canon ball around his neck."

Jacqueline's expression changed to a look of horror. She looked over her shoulder at d'Artagnan, who was trying to fight his laughter and glared. "I told you that you shouldn't be speaking to me like that. Someone else could have heard."

He looked at her apologetically, but couldn't hold it. He started laughing with Siroc.

"You know my friends," Ramon said, trying to control his own laughter. "The only thing you're going to have to worry about now is making sure Captain Duval doesn't catch you kissing."

Jacqueline looked over at Ramon, who was now receiving the glare that d'Artagnan had just received. D'Artagnan had also stopped. The thought of Duval catching them kissing was enough to fill them both with terror, both for Jacqueline's life.

Ramon continued. "Love is a grand and wonderful thing, but catch two musketeers kissing, oh what a scene," he rhymed. Jacqueline and d'Artagnan both groaned, but Ramon and Siroc were laughing uncontrollably.

Jacqueline turned her gaze back to Siroc and narrowed her eyes. "Speaking of kissing," she said. Siroc's usual, serious expression returned to his face. "Will you be seeing Lady Isabel much?" she teased. One side of her mouth curved up in a half smile.

Siroc looked at Jacqueline. His face was slightly red but this time from embarrassment. "A gentleman does not kiss and tell," he said stoically. This time it was d'Artagnan and Jacqueline's turn to laugh. Siroc tried to hold his expression, but finally smiled, his face still a little red.

"And how about you, Ramon?" d'Artagnan asked. He was well aware of Ramon's early suspicions.

"Well, at first I just thought you were a strange one," Ramon said, addressing Jacqueline. She was looking over her shoulder at him. "But in the end, it just finally came to me."

Jacqueline eyed Ramon for a moment, but it was d'Artagnan who finally said what they both were thinking. "So, in other words, you asked Siroc?"

"Yes, I did," Ramon admitted after a short delay.

Jacqueline rolled her eyes but d'Artagnan and Ramon had started laughing again.

"I told him to mind his own business," Siroc interjected, as Jacqueline's gazed fell back on him.

As the laughter died down, Jacqueline's attention turned back to the road. They had reached the spot she had left her friends on the way to Le Havre. She was near her home. She felt a sadness creep over her, much like the one she had known when she thought she needed to leave. She bit her lip.

D'Artagnan watched her expression change from one of happiness to sadness. He brought his horse forward next to her and put his hand on hers. She jumped slightly then turned and gave him a weak smile. "What's wrong?" he asked. He squeezed her hand gently.

"I have something I need do." She swallowed before stopping her mare. D'Artagnan pulled his hand away. She could see the concern in his eyes. Her friends had stopped with her; there eyes focused on her. Each slightly puzzled as to what had caused their friends mood to change so significantly. She guided her horse past her friends and into a grove of trees before entering a field with tall grass that brushed her legs as she rode.

D'Artagnan, Siroc and Ramon followed a short distance behind Jacqueline. Each confused as to where they were going, but they could see a small structure in the distance. They stopped their horses and watched as she dismounted at led her mare up to the structure. She had stopped, letting go of the reins and knelt down, disappearing from view.

Jacqueline stepped passed the gate that surrounded her parents' graves. The graveside and area around the house were fairly kept up, but not well. Monsieur Arnaud had done his best, Jacqueline thought. She knelt down and traced the letters carved into the headstone, tears forming in her eyes.

D'Artagnan sat for a moment before he dismounted his horse and walked toward where Jacqueline had disappeared. Siroc and Ramon looked at each other and Ramon shrugged before they too dismounted and followed d'Artagnan. As they approached they could see the structure clearly now. It was a farm house, modest but homely.

As they cleared the grass they could see Jacqueline. Her back was to them, but they could see her fingers trace the lettering on the headstones. Her body blocked the names from their view, but d'Artagnan already knew where they were. This had been her home. They stood just outside the gate. No one dared say a word, not wanting to disturb her.

She slowly pulled her hand away from the lettering and stood up, biting the inside of her lip. She missed them so much, but the longing she had felt the last time she had stood there no longer plagued her heart. She would always miss her parents and the home she had grown up in. But this place was only a memory now, a pleasant memory that she would cherish forever. It was no longer home and would never be again. She turned around wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her coat. She had not heard her friends approach but she had known they were with her.

"This is where you were? Where you went?" d'Artagnan asked. She knew what he meant.

"Yes," she paused before forcing herself to smile at the one she loved. "This was my home."

D'Artagnan stepped forward and pulled her into his arms and held her. He could feel her sadness but at the same time he also could feel her letting go of her old life. As she pulled away from him, his hand went to her cheek. He ran the back of his fingers along her cheek, tracing her jaw line. They did not speak, but they both knew each others thoughts. His eyes communicated compassion and hers the peace she finally felt.

"We should go," she said, pulling her eyes from his.

As she reached Ramon and Siroc, Siroc put his arm around her shoulders and gently squeezed. "You still have family, Jacqueline. So do not worry," Siroc spoke softly.

"I am not worried, Siroc." The smile that had graced her lips since leaving Le Havre had returned. "Not at all."

Jacqueline was the first to mount her horse, followed by Ramon and Siroc. D'Artagnan pulled at the horse's bit, tightening the straps, and fidgeting with the reins, before he retook his saddle.

"Shall we go home, compadres?" Ramon asked, waving his hand through the air like his words were poetry.

"Let's go home," Jacqueline answered as they headed back to the road that would lead them back to Paris.

Jacqueline ran into her room and locked the door behind her. She stood with her back against the door, clutching a piece of parchment. She had waited so long for this moment and had barely contained herself when the messenger had handed her the folded paper. She bit her lip and slowly unfolded the sealed scrap, holding her breath. As she read the words, My Dearest Jacqueline, she could feel the tears rolling down her cheek.

Her brother was alive.


End file.
